


Little Future Scientist

by affectivefallacy



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: F/M, Family, Fluff, Future Fic, Humor, Kid Fic, One Shot, Perthshire Cottage, Romance, and lots of Doctor Who
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-04
Updated: 2016-01-04
Packaged: 2018-05-11 14:20:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,345
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5629537
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/affectivefallacy/pseuds/affectivefallacy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Anthony Fitz-Simmons was - as his Aunt Daisy had whispered to him once like it was an important secret - two inseparable halves finally made whole. Sometimes though, he wasn’t so sure he had anything as important as that secret in common with either half.</p><p>-----------</p><p>A story about Fitz and Jemma and science and love, told through their son’s eyes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Little Future Scientist

**Age: 8 & ½ years **

Anthony Fitz-Simmons was - as his Aunt Daisy had whispered to him once like it was an important secret - two inseparable halves finally made whole. Sometimes though, he wasn’t so sure he had anything as important as that secret in common with either half.

He supposed it had all started before he was born.

* * *

**Age: 7 months (in the womb)**

“Jemma!” Fitz hollered, coming in the front door and practically falling over as he scrambled to take his boots off in the foyer. “Look what I found in the shop!”

“In here, Fitz,” Jemma called from where she sat in the living room.

Fitz appeared before her seconds later, a little breathless and a stupid grin on his face, holding a shopping bag in one hand. He pulled something out of it, letting the bag fall unceremoniously to the floor, and held up a baby onesie, still grinning. It was a light blue and had silhouette designs of beakers and flasks on it, reading in large colorful block letters above: _“Little Future Scientist”_. 

Jemma snorted. 

“What?” Fitz said, frowning and holding the onesie up against his chest as he looked down at it. “It’s adorable.” 

Jemma eyed it, and her husband’s pout, and smiled. “I suppose it is.” She made to stand and Fitz moved to help her. Once Jemma was steadily on her feet she took the onesie from where it was clutched between Fitz’s hand and her forearm and held it up against her stomach. 

“See?” Fitz said, gesturing. “Fits perfect.” 

Jemma rolled her eyes but smiled wider. “You're right. Perfect for him.” 

“Our little science experiment,” Fitz grinned. 

“Yep,” Jemma said, running her hand up the nape of his neck and leaning in for a kiss. 

**Age: 4 months (in the world)**

“Okay, just one … more … second,” Fitz announced from where he was knelt by the dresser in their son’s nursery. He was tinkering with a nightlight he’d designed, that stood on the dresser and projected stars across the ceiling and walls. “Okay,” he stood up and rushed quietly to stand by Jemma, turning on the lamp with a small remote in his hand. It lit up a soft blue glow and began spinning slowly, projecting shimmering light and stars across the room, except that this particular little universe was astronomically accurate. “Got the idea from Doctor Who,” he said, more than a little smugly.

“Ohhh, isn’t that amazing,” Jemma smiled, with an exaggerated fascination for the benefit of the infant laying in the crib below her (although she was probably a little fascinated herself). “Do you like it Anthony?” 

Anthony looked wide-eyed all around, before his eyes landed on his mum and dad smiling down at him. He gurgled and reached out his little hands. 

“I think he likes it. Huh, little monkey?” 

Jemma reached down and tickled his tummy. “When you’re older I’ll teach you all the constellations.” 

So after a few more moments of smiling and gazing and looking exhausted but happy, Anthony’s parents said goodnight to their little boy and left the room, filled as it was with a periodic table painted on the far wall, and a plush monkey in a lab coat, and blankets with little gears and robots on them, and all the stars of the world. 

**Age: 3 years**

“Auntie Daisy!” Anthony yelled, leaping up from where he’d only recently tackled his father to the ground. His Aunt Daisy had just appeared at the door, back with his mum from being picked up at the airport. Today was some sort of American holiday that his parents always celebrated with their friends, even though no one else in the village did, and he’d been excited all day for his Aunt Daisy to arrive first out of everyone. He hadn’t seen Aunt Daisy very much, at least not that he could remember, but the last time he’d seen her she’d made the ground move with her mind, which was good enough for him. 

“Heyyy, little nerd!” Daisy smiled, sweeping him up in her arms as he ran up to her. “How’ve you been? What are you, in college now?”

Anthony giggled. “No!” 

“Oh! Well, high school then, at least.” 

“I’m not even in school!” 

“Amazing! Already graduated!” Daisy laughed as she carried him into the living room, smiling at Jemma who followed, shaking her head in amusement. “You memorized the periodic table yet?” 

“Nu-uh,” Anthony shook his head. 

“Whaaaaat?” Daisy turned to where she saw Fitz still sitting on the ground. “Didn’t you play him the Tom Lehrer tape I sent?” 

“Yeah,” Fitz grunted. “And why’d you send a _cassette_ tape?” 

“It’s more personal,” Daisy pouted, letting Anthony down as he started to wiggle in her arms. 

“Well, we had to go find a cassette tape _player_ first.” 

“Jemma, do you need any help with the food?” 

“Are you just ignoring me?” 

“No, it’s fine. We finished cooking last night.” 

“Yeah, of course.” 

“Auntie Daisy, look, look!” Anthony jumped on his feet and held up a few sheets of printer paper to her. 

Daisy let out a little gasp and knelt down beside him. “What is it?” 

“I wrote a story, with mum.” Anthony splayed out the few sheets of paper in his hand, complete with large trembling letters he’d stumbled through and drawings taking up most of the page. He smiled proudly. 

“What’s it about?” 

“About monsters and helicopers and knights and you’re in it!” 

“I am?!” Daisy reached out to tickle Anthony’s sides and he ducked away and giggled, clutching the papers tighter in his hands. 

“Yeah! You use your magic earthquake powers!” 

Jemma came around and sat on the couch, running her hand through Anthony’s curls as she did. 

“I told you, sweetie, it’s not magic, it’s _science_. Aunt Daisy doesn’t just make earthquakes, she can control the vibrations in atoms!” His mum said this with a certain affected air of wonder, as she smiled at him, but Anthony just frowned and turned back to his aunt. 

“And you fight the giant in the cave and make rocks crumble down on him!”

“Awesome!” Daisy exclaimed, turning over the paper so she could look. 

“Yeah, you entertain him for a while,” Fitz sighed, laying back down on the floor. “I’m just gonna take a nap … right here.” 

**Age: 5 years**

Today Anthony Fitz-Simmons was turning five years old and he had a few friends and lots of aunts and uncles and his grandparents on both sides in attendance at his party, tucked away in a little house in the Scottish countryside. 

He unwrapped a lot of presents, and ate a TARDIS shaped birthday cake, and a lot of people apparently wanted to ruffle his hair. True, several of his honorary aunts and uncles didn’t see him very often, so their presents were just what they guessed he might like, but they were still cool. He got one of those crystal growing kits and several fantasy and kids’ science books (of which he preferred the former) and a few monkey things. He got a starter chemistry set from his mum and his own copy of the first Harry Potter book to read together at bedtime. His dad got him one of those brain teaser puzzle things and a toy sonic screwdriver, one he'd built himself. But it wasn’t until his last gift, given to him by his Aunt Bobbi, that he got really excited. He unwrapped the large and thin present and underneath the shiny paper was revealed a small sketchbook. 

“And you can draw whatever you like in it,” she told him. 

“Wow!” He held it up in front of him, turning it over in his hands, and flipping through the blank, milky white pages.   
  
“You just bought that at the drugstore last minute,” his Uncle Hunter muttered and his Aunt Bobbi jabbed him in the side with her elbow. 

Even if it were true, Anthony didn’t care. He was excited to see what he could fill up all those blank pages with - it could be anything.  

It was later in the same afternoon, after everyone had gone, and there was still wrapping paper strewn around and half eaten birthday cake on the counter and his mum and dad were washing up. Anthony sat on his knees at the coffee table, with his new sketch book spread out in front of him. He was drawing a flying machine that was powered by bubble bath, because that seemed like a better enough use for baths than actually taking them. His parents were talking in the kitchen. 

“He really likes that sketchbook, doesn’t he?” Jemma commented, watching him as she wiped off a glass. 

“I guess so,” Fitz said, coming back in with a plate he’d cleared up from the living room and kissing her on the cheek as he passed. 

“Hmm,” Jemma frowned, knowing it was a bit petulant. “I was hoping the chemistry set would be his favorite.” 

Fitz chuckled, as he stared down into the full sink. “He probably just needs you to show him how to use it.” 

“You were just in there, what was he drawing?” Jemma asked, turning to Fitz, a bit eager in her curiosity. 

“Um,” Fitz bit his lip and continued staring into the sink, formulating a plan of action for the dishes. “Some sort of imaginary contraption.” 

“A _contraption_.” Jemma narrowed her eyes at him. 

Fitz tried really hard to fight the small smile on his lips, he really did, but he didn’t win that battle. Jemma saw it plain as day. “Ugh, Fitz,” she said, rolling her eyes. 

“Maaaaybe he’ll be an engineer,” Fitz smiled as he picked up a sponge, trying to sound as innocent as possible. 

Jemma turned and eyed her son, scribbling away with his tongue sticking out and curls falling across his eyes. “Please, he’s five. Like we could possibly know what he’ll want to be.” 

“And I’m not the one who bought him a chemistry set for his birthday.” 

**Age: 7 years**

When he was four, Anthony’s dad had taped a sign up on the door at the end of the hallway, with a horizontal line that said _“You must be this tall to enter the lab without parental supervision!”_ (there was also an image of a despondent looking little monkey drawn next to it). 

There was a heavy lock on the door so it was usually a moot point, but accidents do happen, and sometimes they involve burning off half of your right eyebrow. At any rate, at seven years old, Anthony was not “this tall” yet, so he always knocked, or asked which ever other parent wasn’t in there at the time. But if he was being perfectly honest, he didn’t ask all that much. Usually it was when he wanted or needed to ask mum or dad for something and they were working down there. 

All his school friends thought the lab was “SO cool!“ and wanted to see it multiple times whenever they came over. To that end, it was also his usual go-to in order to make friends, or impress them, in the first place. 

( _“MY dad is a pilot and flies all over the world!” “Yeah, well my parents have a SECRET LAB in the basement!” “They do not!” “Do to!” “Do not!” “Come over and I’ll show you.”_ ) 

Many a fast friendships were formed that way, along with a few rivalries. If he was feeling particularly indignant he would announce _“my parents used to work for a super secret spy organization!”_ but he knew he wasn’t supposed to talk about that one, so he tried not to resort to it. Although some people just needed to be knocked down a peg, like Sally Waldroup, who thought it was so neat her mum worked for the Prime Minister’s cousin. So what?

But as much as they enraptured his friends, he’d seen all the funnels and crucibles and computers and autoclaves, and there was only so many times his mum could combine nitrous oxide and carbon disulfide to the _‘oohs_ ’ and _‘aahs’_ of all his classmates before he got bored.

Today, Anthony had brought over a new friend, who he’d met on the playground. She was a year older than Anthony, but that was okay because Anthony usually got along with kids a little older than him. She had won the little kid science fair the week earlier, which Anthony wasn’t old enough to participate in yet because it was a third grader thing, but when he’d told her about the secret lab she’d really wanted to see it. Anthony suspected his parents would like to meet her, too. 

So he brought her over and showed her the lab and his mum did the chemical reactions thing and his dad showed her some of his blueprints and they talked about science and had a snack. His parents were very impressed that she had won the science fair and told Anthony how much fun it would be when he got to participate. He only sort of listened, while munching on his apple slices, because he was thinking about a comic book idea he’d had about a wizard who could talk to blue whales. 

Later he showed her his room. 

“Wow!” she gasped, walking up to the periodic table painted on his wall. “That’s so cool.” She whirled around and looked at all the other things in his room, including the telescope just the right size for him, and his starter chemistry set gathering dust on the shelf. “You’re so lucky.” 

“It’s alright,” Anthony shrugged, walking over to his reader corner. He sat down and pulled out a notebook crammed on the bottom shelf under a stack of books. 

“You have the whole Harry Potter series,” she commented, having come and looked over his shoulder.

“Yep,” Anthony smiled proudly. His parents always bought him lots of books and sketchpads and notebooks to write in. “Do you wanna watch Doctor Who? We own every series.” 

“Sure!” 

**Age: 8 years**

Anthony Fitz-Simmons wasn’t sure his parents had yet noticed he couldn’t care less about science. Maybe it was his fault - he did make very good marks in the subject at school … and in maths … and history and spelling and just about everything, even physical education. He wasn’t doing much to distinguish his interests there. 

He also couldn’t help the decorations in his room, they’d been like that since he was a baby. Anyway, he didn’t exactly _want_ to get rid of his constellations nightlight or monkey plushy with accompanying lab coat.

Really, he felt a bit guilty about it. His parents always read him books at night and hung his drawings up on the fridge and told him he could be anything he wanted to be. But they also _really_ liked science. So even if Anthony didn’t want to _be_ a scientist, he couldn’t exactly tell them he found the whole business pretty uninteresting. 

They always shared so many facts with him, and wanted to show him whatever new project they were working on, and even wanted his input - but Anthony didn’t like logic and reasons and numbers and _figures_. He had nothing against them, if they worked well enough to hold the whole universe together like his parents said, but he favored drawing and writing and dreaming up things that  _maybe_ his dad could build, but that Anthony much preferred to think would stay impossible anywhere except inside his head. He liked it that way. 

Stuff like imagination and magic and dreams and friendship and compassion and courage and _love_ \- he thought those things might hold the universe together too. Although he’d never tell his parents … but he might be more convinced of it than ever when he watched them side by side. 

**Age: 8 & ¾ years **

It was a cool evening in March and Anthony was sitting outside in the front garden with his mum. She was sat in a small lawn chair while he sat cross legged in the grass beside her. He had a warm mug of hot chocolate and his mum had tea, and it was nice mostly, but it had been almost thirty minutes since they came out. 

His dad was away. He’d left early in the morning for a “consultation” with the super secret spy organization Anthony shouldn’t mention and he wasn’t due to get back until late in the night. Anthony’s mum and dad sometimes went on “consultations” each, although never together since someone had to stay behind and watch him. Anthony wasn’t entirely sure what a “consultation” was, except that they were science-y and spy-y and important, and his mum or dad usually stayed up all night waiting for the other to get home from them, and he was allowed to stay up all night too if he wanted, but he usually fell asleep.

Today, after it’d been dark for a while, his mum made their drinks, gathered some blankets, and had him come outside with her to look at the stars. She started pointing out and showing him the different constellations, which they could see very well in the clear night sky out in the countryside. 

Really, it’d stopped being interesting after the Big Dipper and Leo constellation. And that one was only cool cause it was like his dad. Sure, the mythology behind them might be neat, but his mum really spent more time talking about the rotation and distance and hemispheres and the first law of thermodynamics, which is precisely where he zoned out, even if she'd said it was important. 

Of course, he didn’t want to hurt his mum’s feelings either. He was picking at the grass by his feet, thinking of other things, and a little bit enjoying the sound of her voice even if he wasn’t really listening. But thirty minutes turned into an hour and sometimes there were sacrifices we have to make for our sanity. 

“Muuuum,” he whined, sitting up on his knees and leaning over the arm of her chair. “I’m bored. Can I go in and watch telly?” 

“Oh,” she said, turning to face him. She smiled for a moment and then cupped his cheek in her hand. “Of course, sweetie.” 

Anthony scrambled up almost immediately and darted towards the front door, but then he stopped, feeling a tug in his heart that compelled him to turn around. His mum was looking up at the stars, mug of tea in her hands and blanket in her lap, and she was smiling but her eyes looked a little distant and sad. 

Maybe she was worried about his dad? _He_ wasn’t worried about his dad, cause he knew his dad, like his mum, (and his aunts and his uncles and really most adults he knew somehow), was a superhero. But he still knew how mums and dads could be. And they had always told him, when reading his favorite books to him at night, that superheroes could still get worried and scared.

So he turned away from the cottage door and walked back up to her through the grass, standing beside and little behind her lawn chair, and placed his small hand on her shoulder. 

“We could watch an episode of Doctor Who?” he offered.

His mum turned to him and her eyes lit up and looked less sad and she smiled brightly at him - as bright as all the stars above. “That sounds wonderful.” 

Anthony grinned and ran to the door, waiting at it for his mum to gather up the cups and blankets and follow inside. 

Anthony Fitz-Simmons may have not had everything in common with his parents - like stars, and science, and schematics - but he had his mum’s brown hair and smile, and his dad’s blue eyes and curls, and all their heart and most of their courage, and anything else actually important.

Besides, anyone could be united by a good adventure with the Doctor - who knew all about both science and stars and magic and stories - along with a lot of love, inside a little cottage in Perthshire.

**Author's Note:**

> this is my first FS fic, which I didn't think would be happening for quite some time, if ever. although I cheated a bit, but I had an inkling of an idea last night and had to write it down. and Anthony's name, like many things in this fic, is a Doctor Who reference. either that is intentional by his parents, or just by me, you can decide :)


End file.
